


Euphoric

by drunkenfangirl



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Aftercare, Blow Jobs, Breathplay, Dom/sub, Fluff, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 10:58:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9231884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drunkenfangirl/pseuds/drunkenfangirl
Summary: Sometimes, when the work gets to be too much, he just needs to not be in his own head for a while.  Jumin is always happy to oblige.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pfaugh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pfaugh/gifts).



> My first foray into posted fic in a very long time. I tried to be as faithful to what I know of BDSM relationships and practices, but it's all knowledge gained through research, so if I got something wrong, please let me know.  
> Also, this is definitely thanks to one of my best friends, who brainstormed this porny scenario into existence with me and then let me text it to her close to midnight on a Friday evening. Anyway, I hope people like this.

Luciel felt weightless. Floating in a blissful haze, his whole body nothing but sensation. The soft sounds of their movements and Jumin's hand threaded in his hair were his only anchors to reality. Jumin's voice and touch were electric, amplified a thousand fold by the blindfold that Jumin had gently tied before pushing him to his knees on his expensive carpet.

"You're doing so well, Luciel. You're so good for me." Luciel feels Jumin's praise, voice deeper and rougher than normal, washing over him like a warm, soothing bath. He shudders, moaning around the heavy weight of Jumin's cock on his tongue. He loves this; loves the feeling of his mouth stretched, loves the bitter salt taste of precum on his tongue, loves the way his mind, always racing a million miles a minute, goes quiet when he does this. Jumin will take care of him. He always does.

Jumin tightens his grip on Luciel's hair fractionally; a warning, and then all at once slides down his throat. "Ah-" the involuntary noise of pleasure Jumin makes is bitten off quickly, but not quickly enough; Luciel flushes hot all over at the sound, overwhelmed and trembling. The fact that he can break Jumin's iron clad control will never not be the headiest intoxicant in the world.

Jumin holds himself there for an eternity, it seems, until Luciel is giddy and lightheaded, contemplating pressing the safety buzzer clasped in his bound hands. But he doesn't. He trusts Jumin to know his limits. When Jumin finally pulls out with a sigh, Luciel gasps and sways, drunk on Jumin and the sudden rush of oxygen.

Jumin has pulled away slightly; Luciel can feel his absence in his very core, like a missing piece of code. An inarticulate sound of dismay escapes his mouth, voice wrecked from Jumin's rough treatment, his mouth open and wanting.

"Are you that desperate for it?" Jumin asks, his rich voice gone smoky with desire, but his tone is conversational. The perfect mask of control is back in place. For now. And fuck, if that doesn't get Luciel hotter. He's a quivering, needy mess and Jumin is still just as perfectly put together, in his three piece suit, probably just as pressed and polished as ever, not a hair out place. 

"Please. I need - . Please, oh please." Luciel practically sobs; his body taut and shaking, wanton desperation made corporeal.

"If you want it that badly, I'm afraid you're going to have to be a little more charming to convince me." A teasing edge to the words. Ah, so that's what he wants. 

"Please, sir, I'm begging you! I'll do anything for you, sir, I just-" Luciel knows that he sounds like a filthy, easy slut, pitching his voice to sound utterly helpless, words slurred, panting. He feels incandescent, and like he's too big for his skin; stretched too thin, brittle and ready to shatter.

"Well since you asked so nicely, I suppose I can be magnanimous." There's a whisper of Jumin's Armani trousers and the soft slide of his Italian leather oxfords on the carpet and then - oh yes. The blunt head of Jumin's cock is pressing against his bottom lip. Luciel sticks out his tongue and laps at the collected precum gathered there before wrapping his lips around it and suckling greedily.

Jumin lets out a slightly choked sound and then a hand slides back through Luciel's hair, possessive and comforting, his other hand coming down to stroke his shoulder. Luciel hums in pleasure and takes him in deeper. His teeth graze it ever so slightly and he receives a painful slap to the shoulder and a fist in his hair for the transgression. 

He practically mewls at that; God, he'd be mortified if he weren't so fucking turned on. He redoubles his efforts out of sheer determination. No one else in the world has the privilege of making Jumin Han fall to pieces, and Luciel desperately wants to be so good for him, wants to be the best he's ever had. He's achingly hard, more aroused than he's ever been in his life, and so hot he feels as though he may combust at any moment. And yet he's content to stay here forever, letting Jumin use him however he pleases, his own leaking arousal ignored in favor of Jumin's pleasure.

Jumin swears softly, and starts to move his hips in aborted little thrusts, hand cradling Luciel's head jealously, like he was something precious to be treasured, locked away from the rest of the world. Luciel's throat feels tight and his eyes sting, a fierce wave of gratitude and affection and awe pummeling him like a fist to the gut. 

"Luciel..." Jumin's voice is strained; a warning. Luciel whines in desperation, tears sliding hot and messy down his cheeks, mixing with the precum and saliva dripping from his chin. Jumin suddenly thrusts hard once, twice, three times before his entire body goes abruptly still, a hastily muffled shout accompanying the sudden flood of his cum in the back of Luciel's throat. He chokes on it and promptly comes so hard he whites out, rutting helplessly against Jumin's $10,000 slacks, staining them with his own release.

He comes back to himself in time to feel Jumin pull himself gingerly from his mouth, hissing sharply when Luciel reflexively sucks at the overly sensitive head. "Ah, sorry," he attempts to say, but all that comes out is a garbled mess. 

Luciel feels Jumin's elegant fingers find the ties of the blindfold and swiftly undo them. Luciel blinks owlishly, rendered almost blind by the sudden influx of candlelight. Jumin and his fucking aesthetics, he thinks, a little hysterically. "Hi" he says dopily, grinning up at Jumin, feeling suddenly euphoric. Jumin just smiles fondly at him and helps him stand up before untying the rope binding his arms.

Luciel hisses in discomfort as the blood rushes back into his arms. Jumin instantly reaches out to gently but firmly massage feeling back into them, wincing in sympathy. 

"You did such a good job, Luciel. You were so perfect for me. My perfect boy." The warm affection threading Jumin's deep voice makes Luciel flush with pride, a shy smile tugging at his lips, even as he starts to yawn. Now that the post-orgasmic haze is dispersing, he feels exhausted. But no longer the gray and hollow exhaustion of before. His whole body feels warm and relaxed, his extremities practically tingling. 

Jumin smiles again and leads Luciel over to his massive, luxurious bed, pulling the covers down and gently pushing him into the soft, cool sheets. Luciel moans in satisfaction and goes utterly boneless, closing his eyes and inhaling the subtle, spicy scent of Jumin's cologne that lingered in his 1000 thread count sheets. He hears Jumin pad off to the en-suite and putter around before he returns and a cool, wet washcloth gently wipes the mess off his face. Luciel hums in pleasure. 

He drifts off while Jumin goes about his nightly routine, only waking when Jumin slides into the bed next to him and clicks off the bedside lamp. The blue glow of the aquarium makes everything look ethereal at night, and Jumin's aristocratic features are heartbreakingly lovely. Suddenly feeling sentimental, Luciel snuggles closer to Jumin, who slides a possessive arm around his waist and softly cards his hands through his hair. Luciel will have to return to being 707 tomorrow... will have to return to his life of overwhelming pressure and deadly missions and soul-crushing loneliness. But for tonight he'll let Jumin take care of him. Right before he drops off, he feels Jumin place a gentle kiss on his forehead and that night he dreams of a happier world.


End file.
